


interstellar border control

by wrino



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, M/M, Space Stations, heavy worldbuilding for a random oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 14:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11969628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrino/pseuds/wrino
Summary: The universe expands at a rate faster than the speed of light, but Kei meets Yamaguchi anyway.





	interstellar border control

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for an anon on my tumblr. thanks, anon.
> 
> oh, and if you get lost, there's a glossary of terms in the end notes. thank you for reading <3

Kei stares at the tiny yellow spaceship from the control room window. He makes out a few details, like the green Kando flag on the roof and the heavily-tinted windows, but not much else. The ship floats, suspended in space, like some sort of cosmic yellow teki on the black sands of Gamuro.

“Carriage Alfa-15328, you are approaching Yooru territory. Please state your party number and party leader’s name, affiliation, and intention,” he drones into the microphone.

“Yamaguchi Tadashi, uh, traveling alone. Kando affiliation. Kuroo sent me to repair the nucleonic plasma splitter? Clearance code 3648,” the ship replies, voice echoing in the chamber through the station’s speakers. Kei verifies the numbers with the ones scribbled on his palm.

“Oh. Right. Come in.”

The ship slowly nears as the runway extends toward it. Yellow expands in Kei’s vision until the shape is as large as the palm he holds up to shield his eyes from the decidedly _bright_ hue, and Alfa-15328 finally lands on the dock with a loud _thud_. Kei winces.

He didn’t think it was possible, but Yamaguchi’s bulky neon orange spacesuit and fluorescent pink toolbox shine even brighter than his garish vehicle. Light bounces off his tinted helmet as he walks toward the station. Kei looks around at his monochrome chamber and imagines the orange leaning against the black walls, the pink sitting by the gray nutriment conserver, the orange sleeping on his white too-short bed. It gives him a headache.

A sharp ring alerts him of Yamaguchi’s arrival at the door. The overhead monitor shows Kei a bright orange fishbowl peeking curiously at the security camera, so he presses a green button on his left.

He’s still staring at the monitor when he hears a _swish_ behind him. Heavy steps thump against the floor; Kei turns around when he counts three.

“Tsukishima Kei?”

“Hey,” Kei nods.

“Hi.”

Yamaguchi presses a button on his wrist, and Kei finds himself staring back at warm brown pools when they had just been an abyss of black space seconds before.

“Ah, you don’t need that,” Kei realizes out loud.

“Huh?” Yamaguchi’s voice is muffled by the spacesuit. His words scratch and thrash against the helmet’s material.

Kei taps his own temple twice. “The atmospheric conditions on this station are set to Yooru’s, and conditions on Yooru and Kando are pretty similar. Kuroo never wears a helmet when he goes here.”

Yamaguchi just gawks at him, or at least that’s what Kei assumes by the way his eyes widen. Kei can’t see his eyebrows, but he imagines Yamaguchi raising one anyway.

He sighs. “What could I possibly gain from tricking you into suffocating?”

“Money?”

Kei rolls his eyes. “I wish. Take off the helmet, Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi laughs, doesn’t stop laughing until his helmet’s off, and Kei hears it unrestrained. Without the obstruction, Yamaguchi’s voice is gentle and mellifluous. He places the helmet delicately on the floor.

When Yamaguchi looks up, Kei hopes the gasp he hears from himself is absolutely internal.

Yamaguchi has entire galaxies on his cheeks, on his nose, the tips of his ears. The spots on his face glow against his tan skin in soft old, completely unlike the noisy yellow parked outside the station. Kei’s grayscale room is suddenly bathed in the color. This random mechanic is a star and Kei’s own artifacts are the revolving planets in its solar system.

He wants to ask how Yamaguchi handles the light when all Kei himself has known is dark, murky Yooru and the tenebrific expanse of empty space. He wants to ask if Yamaguchi illuminates every room he enters. He wants to ask if the spots emit heat as they do light, if Yamaguchi’s skin feels thousands upon thousands of pinpricks of fire. If Kei runs his thumb across Yamaguchi’s cheek, will he burn?

“Wow. You’re really tall.”

And the moment is over. Kei blinks twelve times in rapid succession, sees gold-black-gold-black behind his eyelids every split second. He struggles to take back his breath. Does Yamaguchi not notice the room’s brand new decorations?

“Right,” Kei croaks. “The splitter is over there, right behind that panel.”

Yamaguchi nods. He walks toward the wall Kei points to and kneels so he faces the only patch of gray on black walls. He procures a screwdriver – an average silver, Kei is more than glad to note – and works to release the panel until it clangs to the floor. The angry sound almost drowns out Yamaguchi’s gasp.

“What? Is it that bad?” Kei’s mind immediately goes to exploding space stations and his long, limp body, forever suspended just beyond his home planet’s atmosphere.

“No, no,” Yamaguchi laughs, waving away Kei’s panic with each lilt. Every bounce of his shoulders makes the gold dance across the walls. “It’s just… this is a really nice model. Do you know who does Materials Procurement for your station?”

“Shouldn’t you know? You work for the company that made it.”

“Ah, I’m just an intern. I’m training to be an aerospace engineer, so I have a background in cisthoron machinery. So…” Yamaguchi trails off, gesturing vaguely to himself and at the plasma splitter: a thin glass cylinder wedged shallowly in the wall.

He takes a flashlight from the toolbox. Kei furrows a brow at that. He considers asking him why he doesn’t just shove his head in the wall and light the work area with the dots on his face, but restrains himself when Yamaguchi flicks the flashlight on. Kei kneels down beside him.

“That’s definitely a fracture. Just a hairline one, though,” Yamaguchi whispers, as if scared his own voice will completely shatter the very thing he’s trying to repair. He points at a thin blue line on the glass that Kei has to inch closer to see.

“Um. Cool?” He whispers back, warming at their proximity. When had they gotten so close?

“Cool,” Yamaguchi affirms, breath hot against Kei’s face before he pulls away. “We won’t have to totally change it.”

Kei loses track of how many things Yamaguchi pulls out of his toolbox then. Haphazardly spread out in front of them are four different-sized wrenches, two gluckans, an assortment of nuts and bolts, and other tools Kei only mildly recognizes from Kuroo’s routine trips – Kando instruments.

“Why do you need all that for a hairline fracture?”

“Well, cisthoron materials are a lot more complicated than typical Earthen or hassium-based particles,” Yamaguchi starts, sharpening the larger gluckan as he speaks. “With this particular splitter, for example, it would be much better for you long-term to engage the uranium-rutherfordium links embedded in the glass’s lattice to accelerate the self-healing process, but to do _that_ you’d have to, um, re-polarize the multiphasic generator – that’s the tiny cloud thing in the middle – or else attempting anything else with the splitter is pretty moot.”

Kei stares at him.

“What, you thought I was just going to glue the break shut?”

Yamaguchi smiles up at him, like he knows Kei thought exactly that. He beams brighter than the glow on his cheeks.

More yellow takes over the room when Yamaguchi takes the gloves off his spacesuit. The spots on his knuckle almost twinkle as Yamaguchi takes the gluckan he’d been sharpening and lightly traces a square on the plasma splitter. The square turns blue, and the area inside it evaporates into thin air. Gas oozes out of the cylinder through the hole.

When Kuroo comes over, Kei naps or reads a book as he pretends to listen to the mechanic rant endlessly about work or fawn over his boyfriend. But Kei watches Yamaguchi work until he finishes, and until the blue light of Yooru’s third moon looms over the station and douses them in blue. Yamaguchi’s spots take on a green tinge.

“Okay. I’m done, Tsukki.”

He stares at the greenish dot on the tip of Yamaguchi’s ear. If Kei moves the slightest bit to the left, the blue from the window is blocked and it becomes yellow again. He forgets to respond.

“Er, I can call you Tsukki, right? Tsukishima is too long, and Kuroo said –“

“I don’t mind,” he cuts him off. He doesn’t. Yamaguchi says the two syllables simply but secretly, like his most favorite song, like a symphony he wants to keep to himself forever.

Kei’s head spins remembering the melody. He really doesn’t mind.

 

* * *

 

“Everything checks out. The transdimensional conduit’s giving off a weird ‘I’m broken’ vibe, though,” Kuroo says from the bottom bunker, exactly thirty-one cycles since Kei’s splitter was fixed.

Kei himself sits cross-legged near the bunker’s overhead entrance, peering down at Kuroo after every chapter he finishes of the book open in front of him. “There’s no such thing as a transdimensional conduit.”

“Gotcha. Well, almost.”

Yooru’s third moon peeks into the station’s window. Kei’s reminded of gold-sometimes-green spots. If Yooru’s second moon had greeted Yamaguchi instead, would the dots be orange?

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Is it about Yamaguchi?”

Kei drops his book, heart thundering wildly in his chest. He looks down at Kuroo through the bunker’s entrance. “Excuse me?”

“Routine activity check,” Kuroo explains, screwing a panel shut. “Oikawa told me to examine your browser for ‘suspicious activity’. He was laughing, so I expected porn, but the hundred thousand Yamaguchi Tadashi, Kando, _glow spots_ – you don’t have freckles on Yooru? – Wimble searches were pretty funny as well.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’d give you his number, but his internship ended about ten cycles ago. He’s an engineer at Metsua now.”

Kei blinks at that, almost too embarrassed to be properly impressed. Metsua was the pinnacle of aerospace engineering. Only the richest had Metsua hovers, could afford transport with Metsua spaceships, could buy Metsua _anything_. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. Too bad, too. We haven’t really found anyone else with cisthoric experience.”

No Yamaguchi ever again, then. Kei deflates. A pit the size of an ueshi finds a home in his heart. It cuts off his circulation, sends his insides into a frenzy he doesn’t understand and leaves his limbs limp and cold.

Kuroo somehow notices. “If it makes you feel any better, he has the biggest crush on you, too. Wouldn’t shut up about how cool you are and how nice the station smelled. You know he calls you Tsukki? It’s cute.”

The pit in his chest buries itself deeper.

“And no. I don’t know why his freckles glow.”

 

* * *

 

It is incredibly hard to fracture a nucleonic plasma splitter.

Kei realizes just that when he wipes the sweat off his face for the twelfth time that cycle. An array of sharp, heavy, and sharp and heavy tools lay in between him and the splitter, some marked with red chalk. Those marked lie to his left in a messy pile of metal and condensed plasma, while the only three left unmarked lie to his right in a neat line. A multi-spacial theraknife, a silver nanoparticle abrasant, and a stainless steel nail clipper – just to cover all his bases.

He picks up the theraknife and waves it slowly near the cylinder. Nothing happens. He rubs the abrasant against the glass. Nothing happens either, but the rubbing does make a squeaky grating sound that grinds on his ears.

The fracture has to be noticeable, but not big enough that it looks intentional. It shouldn’t be either too near or too far from where the last crack was. The splitter shouldn’t _actually_ break, lest Kei’s station explode with him in it.

It is decidedly difficult to even scratch a nucleonic plasma splitter, but Kei is determined, if only to see Yamaguchi again.

Kei picks up the nail clipper and taps the side of the splitter. There, at the very corner of the cylinder, appears a slight crack.

He runs to the control panel. His legs move faster than his brain can interpret his actions, and he calls Kuroo without thinking.

“Tsukishima? It’s late.”

“Hey. My splitter is fractured again.”

There’s shuffling on the other line. “ _What?_ Again? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Kei replies, voice thick with fatigue. How long has he been awake?

A pause.

“Nucleonic plasma splitters are durable as fuck,” Kuroo says, finally.

“I know.”

Another pause.

“Did you break your splitter so we’d have to bring in Yamaguchi? From another company, in another _planet_ , four hundred light-years away?”

“That’s a loaded question,” Kei replies, slowly.

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Oh. Then yes.”

Kuroo groans, and Kei can only imagine the slapping sound he hears as an exasperated facepalm.

“Fuck you, Tsukishima.”

Kei hums. “So you can get it fixed?”

“If you don’t kiss him, I’ll kill you.”

 

* * *

 

Kei can’t say he doesn’t remember why he took this job. Being a Gatekeeper is thankless, but it pays glamorously – certainly _much_ more than any work he could have done back on land. He’s almost never busy, given the fact that his side of Yooru is hardly a tourist spot, unlike the opposite side where Hinata is stationed. As a result, the only carriages he’s ever had to deal with so far were delivery ships, locals, and, of course, Kuroo. He passes the time by reading electronic books and using his exceptional Uninet connection to find obscure music from different planets.

His station’s only big enough for one person, though. Kei doesn’t ever regret being a Gatekeeper, but he’s a lot lonelier than he would ever care to admit.

“Can you pass me the pa – um, the green knife thing,” Yamaguchi says, holding out one hand while the other tinkered with the splitter.

“The paduin. I’ve seen Kuroo use it.” Kei sets the tool on Yamaguchi’s outstretched hand. Yamaguchi hums back at him.

Kei’s room is alight again, sixty cycles after it was last. His usually bland furniture seem as happy as Kei; gold kisses them over and over, even more so than last time.

“You know, splitter fractures are pretty uncommon. Like, _really_ uncommon, actually. I know someone who’s kept his splitter perfect for years, and it wasn’t nearly as nice as this one, Tsukki.”

“Um,” is the only thing Kei can reply, lightheaded after hearing the nickname again.

“There. Done.” Yamaguchi wipes his hands on his suit before moving to put away his things. Kei helps him without beng asked to, picking up a bolt that had rolled away from them. It makes a clanging sound when he drops it in Yamaguchi’s toolbox.

They stand. Yamaguchi hesitates before walking towards the helmet on the corner table.

“Wait,” Kei says, before he can stop himself. Yamaguchi whips around to face him. “Wait.”

“Yeah?” Yamaguchi’s voice squeaks, and it is in it that Kei hears his own hope mirrored.

“Why do your spot – freckles, I mean – glow?”

“Oh, um,” Yamaguchi stammers, hands flying to his cheeks, as if he can hide them under his fingers. “Kando thing.”

Kei raises an eyebrow. “Kando thing?”

“People of pure Kando lineage usually have at least one spot on their body. Kuroo doesn’t have one because he’s half Vol, I think. But my friend Suga has one by his eye, and my mother has some on her cheeks. Not as much as me though,” he laughs softly. “I have them everywhere.”

Kei nods. He wants to ask so much more, but he’s deathly afraid he’ll never stop if he starts, like a dam will break and his confessions will come in tsunamis if he so much as makes a noise. Still, he wants to give Yamaguchi words he can keep in his pocket, even if they’re to be forgotten later, buried under the praise of more significant individuals.

“I think they’re interesting,” Kei says finally, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat.

“You can touch them,” Yamaguchi replies, almost immediately. And then, as though he catches himself: “I mean, only if you want to!”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” Yamaguchi gently takes Kei’s hands and guides them slowly toward his face, settling them on his cheeks. He keeps his hands over Kei’s as the latter runs his thumb across tan and gold – and red, because Yamaguchi’s blush is nothing less than violent.

It’s warm. The freckles themselves don’t emit any kind of heat, but Yamaguchi’s cheeks are on fire. Kei prefers it, especially because his own face feels just as warm.

“I broke the splitter,” Kei whispers. He doesn’t dare put away his hands. Neither does Yamaguchi.

“What? Why?”

“I wanted to see you again.”

Kei’s rarely ever this candid, but Yamaguchi’s flush encourages him. He keeps his eyes on Yamaguchi’s widened ones.

“I’ve thought about you every cycle since I met you.” He feels Yamaguchi suck in a breath, feels his head bob slightly up and down as he struggles to breathe.

“Is that… is that weird?” Kei asks, slight panic edging into his tone.

“No. No, no, no,” Yamaguchi shakes his head so vigorously the flashing gold makes Kei dizzy. “Not weird. Me, too, Tsukki. Me, too.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Great,” Yamaguchi beams. He squeezes the hands still on his cheeks.

Kei smiles back. The tips of his mouth reach out to find the last ounce of courage he has.

“So,” he starts.

“Kuroo said he’d kill me if I didn’t kiss you.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **GLOSSARY (in alphabetical order)**  
> 
> **Alfa-15328** \- the name of Yamaguchi’s ship. I made them use a variation of the NATO phonetic alphabet, so the ship’s name is actually A-15328.
> 
> **carriage** \- more common term for "vehicle"
> 
> **cisthoron** \- class of materials
> 
> **cycle** \- an Earthen day
> 
> **Kando** \- Kuroo and Yamaguchi’s home planet. It’s the most similar to Earth in terms of general content, but it has a lot less water and the colors are all different. Also what you call people from Kando.
> 
> **Gamuro** \- a desert planet
> 
> **gluckan** \- a common tool
> 
> **Metsua** \- one of the biggest aerospace companies in the universe. Imagine SpaceX but in the future and actually in space. It’s on the planet Raghu.
> 
> **multi-spacial theraknife** \- a common tool on Yooru. Basically like a swiss army knife but with more deadly lasers.
> 
> **nucleonic plasma splitter** \- a component of most space vehicles. I don’t know what it does, but Yamaguchi probably does.
> 
> **nutriment conserver** \- a refrigerator
> 
> **paduin** \- a common tool on Kando
> 
> **silver nanoparticle abrasant** \- like steel wool but with silver
> 
> **teki** \- endemic to Gamuro, an insect that is as small as an Earthen ant (hence the simile)
> 
> **transdimensional conduit** \- fictional thing Kuroo made up to fuck with Tsukki
> 
> **ueshi** \- endemic to Yooru, an animal the size of an Earthen elephant (again, hence the simile)
> 
> **Uninet** \- the Internet but in space
> 
> **Vol** \- what you call people from Voluri
> 
> **Wimble** \- Google but for space people
> 
> **Yooru** \- Tsukishima’s home planet. It’s kind of dark and swamp-y and ugly. Sorry Tsukki.


End file.
